His First Mission
by Pammy-Nosepoke
Summary: Just a 2 A.M. oneshot of Kadar's first mission. It was supposed to be easy, but everything goes wrong. Rated for blood and violence?


Kadar ran through the sleeping city of Damascus, trying to evade the pursuing Templars. His booted feet scarcely touched the road as he fled. He recalled the past ten minutes and mentally kicked himself.

_What a way to start your first solo mission, Kadar, _he thought. _I mean, really, could you have done it any better?_

All he had to do was assassinate a local trader, one who traded people as well as rugs and spices. It was to be an easy mission. The rafiq had agreed, had given him leave to go. The trader was to be without guards, unarmed in the marketplace, making another dirty deal tonight at midnight. With that knowledge, Kadar had gone to complete the mission.

Kadar hadn't expected the trader to know he was coming. He hadn't expected to come face to face with six fully-armed Templar guards, the trader, and his contact, who was also a Templar. It had been a skillfully planned trap. And Kadar had walked right into the middle of it, hidden blade blazing. An extremely uneven fight had ensued.

This was how Kadar found himself running through the dark streets of Damascus, a gaping wound in his right side, his left arm bleeding profusely, a deep wound in his back, and various other bleeding, aching injuries. He knew he had to get back to the Bureau, but the sun was not rising anytime soon and he doubted he could climb the roof to enter the Bureau in his current situation anyway.

Kadar soon found a fairly secluded corner to collapse in, and collapse he did. His vision blurred and faded and he passed out, spread-eagled and bleeding, on the hay.

…

…

"Look at this," a voice said from a distance. "A little Assassin, too wounded to run back to his master. What should we do with him, hmm?"

"I'm fairly bored, myself. Let's have some fun, shall we?" another voice answered. Kadar felt a stab in his injured side. He groaned and opened his eyes to bright sunlight.

_Screw me…_ Kadar thought in despair. Two Templars loomed over him, their swords drawn. Both wore malicious smiles on their faces and bloody crosses on their chests.

"Oi, he's awake," the blond one said. Kadar recognized his voice as the first one to speak. He poked Kadar with his sword again. "Get up, little Assassin."

Kadar licked his lips and realized that he could taste blood. _Dear Allah…_ "How about-" He broke into a coughing fit and then continued. "How about you make me, Templar?"

The Templars laughed and the brunette said, "You asked for it, Assassin." He took hold of Kadar's robes and jerked him to his feet. Kadar just managed to keep his knees from buckling and sending him to the ground again. He reached for his sword but the brunette dealt him a jolting blow to the teeth with the pommel of his sword. Kadar stumbled backwards and hit the ground on his back. His mouth was on fire and his vision swam out of focus for a second. When it cleared the brunette Templar was standing over him.

"Come now, Assassin. Surely you have more fight in you than this?" he taunted. Kadar flicked his left wrist and sank his hidden blade deep into the Templar's calf in a blur. The Templar screamed in pain and fell, clutching his bloody leg. Searing agony tore through Kadar's right side. He gasped and turned his head to see the blond Templar above him, sword in hand, his foot crushing Kadar's wounded side. The Templar was furious.

"You think you can get away with that, young Assassin?" he snarled. "I'll show you otherwise." He brought his sword down hard, sinking it into Kadar's right shoulder. Kadar cried out in pain and grabbed for the blade, but it was gone, instead spearing through his right thigh. He shouted in agony and grabbed the Templar's ankle and jerked him off balance. The Templar fell to the ground and Kadar took advantage of his disorientation to scramble over him and sink his hidden blade into center of the man's bright red cross. He coughed and spluttered before finally going limp.

Kadar rose to his feet and immediately fell to his knees again. A second attempt saw him standing unsteadily. His side was bleeding freely again, as was his arm and back. He spat blood from the wound on his mouth. His shoulder and thigh were blazing in pain, and Kadar wondered if he would make it home to Masyaf after all. Still, he trudged through the back alleys and secluded side streets, stumbling and occasionally falling. Every time it was harder to get up, and every time he forced himself back onto his feet. He left a sporadic trail of blood drops behind him, spitting blood along the way.

When he finally arrived at the Bureau, Kadar's vision was blurry and black along the edges. He was panting, and even though he knew it was unbearably hot outside, he was shivering. A ladder was propped up against the roof next door, and Kadar slowly pulled himself onto the roof. He jumped onto the Bureau roof and his knees buckled, sending him tumbling to the tiles, rolling to a stop right next to the entrance. He worked to get into a sitting position on the edge and dropped in, falling to his knees for the thousandth time. He hauled himself to his feet as the rafiq ran in, a sword in his hands. When he saw who it was he dropped the sword and hurried over.

"Kadar!" he exclaimed, putting a hand on each of the young Assassin's shoulders. "What happened?" Before he could answer, another person appeared next to the rafiq, pushing him aside.

"Malik?" Kadar rasped incredulously. Malik gripped Kadar's shoulders hard and he grunted at the pain in the injured one.

"Kadar! For Allah's sake, brother, what happened? I thought this was supposed to be easy?" The last part was directed at the rafiq.

"It was a trap, Mal. He knew… He knew I was coming." Kadar leaned into his older brother, his vision blurring again.

"Kadar, don't you die on me!" Malik cried, and Kadar collapsed into him completely, unconscious.

…

…

Malik pressed the cool cloth to his brother's fevered forehead. He kept it there a moment, then dipped it in the bowl of water and pressed it to the younger's chest. Malik was glad he had to stop by Damascus to speak with the rafiq, that he had been hear when Kadar had dropped from the roof. The sight of Kadar, his mouth bloody, arm bleeding, right side completely red, still gave him chills.

Kadar whispered something and whimpered. Malik heaved a sigh. He didn't know what dreams and visions had haunted his brother these past three days, but he wished they would disappear.

Kadar shifted under Malik's hand and hissed. "Please…" he begged. Malik dipped the rag again and put it on his brother's cheek. He didn't like the few words Kadar managed to get out. They all were like this.

"No…" Kadar sighed. "Please… don't…" Malik shuddered. He dipped the cloth and reapplied it to his little brother's chest.

"It's okay, Kadar. I'm here."

Kadar shook his head. "Malik?" he rasped. Malik's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, brother. I'm here, right here." He ran his hand through his brother's dark brown hair.

Kadar whined like he did when he was little. "Mal… can't… Where…?" His voice had a panicked tone. Malik shushed his brother.

"I'm right here, little brother. I'll always be here."

"Don't leave me, Mal," Kadar begged quietly. Malik's heart broke.

"Never, Kadar. I'll stay here. You're my brother. I won't leave."

"Promise…" Kadar's voice faded weakly.

"I promise, Kadar." Kadar sighed in his fevered sleep. He didn't say anything else.

Malik put a hand to his face. _If he ever dies…_


End file.
